


In the arms of an angel

by spiffingtea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, M/M, Photographer Castiel, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiffingtea/pseuds/spiffingtea
Summary: Cas is offered a respite from a long day working a wedding. Dean gets his romantic game on.





	In the arms of an angel

The sun had finally slipped beneath the horizon, basking the gardens in the simmering coolness of a summer evening. Fairy lights dangle from the edges of the bandstand, and Castiel shuffles to his left as he angles his shot. Two pillars frame the edges, a row of exactly six lights, shaped like light bulbs, dangle just below the roof of the stand. He eases the focus, sharpening the floral architecture. The lights bask the engravings in soft shadows, calling them close. Cas takes the shot. 

"Lookin' for a dance?" A voice asks, and Cas lowers his camera, blinking at the man who's standing at the bottom of the stairs. He'd been too invested in his image to notice the arrival. Cas raises an eyebrow.

"Didn't take you for a romantic, Winchester."

Dean grins, sauntering up the few short steps to join him. His formal jacket outlines his shoulders as he shrugs. He brings the smell of leather and a sandalwood aftershave, and Cas subconsciously inhales. The smell of home.

Dean steps close enough for their shoe tips to nearly touch. "You love it." He answers, and reaches forward, hands placing over Cas’ own to gently lift the camera over Castiel's head. Dean steps away for a moment to place it beside one of the bandstand's pillars, out of the way. He shrugs off his jacket, folding it and sliding it under the camera. When he turns around, Cas is watching him, head tilted. 

"Are you stopping me from doing my job?” Cas asks. Dean shrugs with one shoulder. 

“Hey now, everyone’s gotta take a break sometime, even the best photographer in the world.”

Castiel hums as he leans against Dean, feeling arms slip around his waist. He takes in a moment to breathe in the leather and sandalwood, the musky tint of a whiskey Dean must have drank during the evening. 

“...They were trying to put their hands on you again, weren’t they?” Cas concludes, mumbling against Dean’s collarbone. He closes his eyes, having not felt the ache that dug into his calves until now. Weddings were always a long day.

He feels Dean sigh, arms tightening marginally around his waist. 

“They don’t matter.” Dean mutters, “They ain’t the one I have in my arms right now.”

Cas glances up, and Dean takes the opportunity to lean forward and kiss him, a kiss as slow and invited as the moment. When they part, Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s, hands pressed to his shoulders. He breathes. 

“Didn’t take you for a romantic, Novak.” Dean murmurs, and Cas cannot hide his smirk.

“You love it.”


End file.
